King leaned forward and kissed my cheek and then his father's. His hair was loose in a wild lion's mane of an Afro. It was just as dark as ever with barely any red or blonde highlights despite the amount of time he spent in the sun. He was tan but not because the sun had darkened him. It seemed that only the un-living were impacted by the sun, growing darker as each year passed. The spirits and King never tanned.

Instead of squeezing in between us to chill with us, he stood in ...